


Somebody Loves You

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Bail him out, Case, First Kiss, Hospitial, It's For a Case, M/M, Sexuality Crisis, Stitches, chase - Freeform, lowkey right, people think they are together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24332173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Five times someone assumed they were a couple and one time they weren't wrong.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 134





	Somebody Loves You

“These dances are so dull. What is even the point?” Sherlock grumbled, sitting down at a table. John pulled out the chair next to him, nodding at a few members of the table.

“Please do cheer up. I believe it was your idea to come here, yeah?” He pointed out, smoothing out his suit. He didn’t look nearly as put together as Sherlock, but he looked rather good in his opinion. No one in the banquet hall matched the detective’s looks, in the tailored suit he was sporting. 

But that was just John’s opinion. Not in a gay way. 

“We are only here because of the case, do keep up. You remember the case with the cheating husband?” Sherlock looked at him, expecting for him to answer.

“The one that was part of a drug ring?” Sherlock nodded in response. “Of course, but what does this ball have to do with that?” 

“He and some of his partners are here tonight. Keep a lookout, yeah?” John nodded, taking a drink of the water bottle they were supplied. Sherlock turned to get a better view of the room, his arm resting on the back of John’s chair. He didn’t know who they were looking for because he had never seen a picture, but Sherlock probably already had that worked out. 

They pretended to be in a conversation, occasionally chatting with the other occupants of the table. John was the only one actually pretending, Sherlock barely contributed. 

“So you guys are partners?” One of them asked, referring to the duo. Sherlock turned, suddenly paying attention.

“We work and live together. Well, John is also a doctor.” Sherlock explained, his eyes deducing the people who they were sitting with. John rolled his eyes, really, really hoping his flatmate would behave and not point out their insecurities and life problems. 

“That’s impressive, your work doesn’t get in the way of your relationship with each other.” Our relationship? Why would it get in the way? They are flatmates- oh. 

“Oh no- we aren’t- we are just flatmates.” He stumbled over his words, trying to explain. Sherlock smiled slightly, clocking out of the conversation again. John felt Sherlock’s hand behind him faintly.

“Flatmates, of course.” The lady nodded, giving them a suspicious look. John’s face flushed a shade of pink, clearing his throat slightly. The conversation moved on, but the doctor kept replaying it in his head. 

Suddenly Sherlock stood up, fleeing from the table into a back hallway, John rolled his eyes, standing up as well, dismissing them from the table.

“Sherlock? What the hell?” John said once he caught up to Sherlock. Sherlock turned, his eyes narrowing slightly but were focused on something behind John. “Sherlock?” 

“John- I-” Sherlock started, before grabbing onto his shoulders and pulling him against his chest. John stumbled forward, his hand bracing himself inches away from the detective and the other one against the wall. “Kiss me.” he whispered frantically, pulling him closer. 

“What? Why-” Sherlock’s eyes widened urgently, before bringing his hand up to hold the back of John's neck, pressing their lips together. An embarrassing sound was muffled in the action as John felt himself melting against the younger one.

His protests left his mind, his hand sliding down to Sherlock’s waist. Did he know why they were doing this? No. Did he want to stop? Absolutely not. “John… kiss my neck.” Sherlock mumbled, and John complied. He was anything but stubborn in this moment, he would do anything. 

John’s mouth trailed along his perfectly sculpted jaw, before traveling down his neck. Sherlock’s head fell back, but his eyes were open and on the lookout. They pressed closer together, their bodies touching from their chest to their knees. 

Abruptly, Sherlock nudged John back, straightening himself out. “We need to go right now- I’ll explain in the cab.” 

\-----

“What the hell was that?” John demanded once they got into the cab. He wasn’t sure if he was mad Sherlock expected him to do it, mad he actually did it, confused he did it so easily, or still slightly aroused. 

“The suspect was behind you and I didn’t know how else to get him off our back other than that. Forget that, he was on the phone with someone and is heading to a warehouse in East Sussex. I’m sending the location to Graham right now we need to go now.” Sherlock explained, typing on his phone mindlessly. “He says to not go, however, we are way more competent than the entire Yard combined. You have your gun?” 

“You know I have my gun, where is the warehouse?” John asked, still breathless from their previous activities. Would he ever recover? Probably not. 

“I know. I felt it under your jacket. Thought you were just excited to see me.” Sherlock teased, looking over at John. John rolled his eyes and chuckled, running his hand through his hair. “Anyways, he insisted we just go back to the flat, but I did an experiment earlier. On an unrelated note, the sink is being fixed right now.”

“Sherlock! Are you serious- I’m just going to ignore what you said. I’m texting Mrs. Hudson an apology, you know how she gets with repairmen.” John joked. Sherlock grinned, his eyes roaming around John’s frame, biting his lip. 

“You mean she cannot control herself? Of course, she brags for weeks. They are just being kind because they want tips.” Sherlock quipped, logging every detail about John’s appearance into his mind palace.

\-----

Sherlock and John moved around the warehouse, nodding in agreement and splitting up. John entered, flattening himself against the wall and moving in. 

He noticed movement in the hallway in front of him, which he quickly advanced into. He saw the suspect bolt once noticing him. “Sherlock!” John yelled, following after him. 

John trapped him in a corner, before tackling him and sitting on the man's back until Sherlock found them. Behind his flatmate was Greg Lestrade and a few of the Yard. 

“Before you get mad at me, Sherlock insisted we come.” John explained quickly, getting up to let the Yard handle it. The man he had just tackled mumbled something, which he was asked to repeat louder. 

“Short guy seems to do anything his little boyfriend says.” Greg glanced over at the two. John was scratching the back of his neck, his face redder than he would care to admit, but Sherlock was smirking. 

“Let’s go home, I’ll give you the report in the morning.” He said before turning, expecting John to follow. John took a deep breath, smiling at Greg.

“He’s not going to get it to me by the morning, is he?” 

“He never does. I’ll bring it by after work tomorrow. Ta.” 

\-----

“Here is the report you were promised, I had to force it out of him last night.” John handed it over, standing in front of Greg’s desk. Greg raised his eyebrow. 

“What was that all about yesterday? You know, the ‘short guy does whatever Holmes says’ comment?” 

“That? Ah- that- just something for the case.” John mumbled, suddenly really focused on the ground. 

“John? What did he have you do?” Greg pressured. The doctor shook his head. “I know he is a lot sometimes.”

“Nothing like that, of course I know he can be a lot! I live with him for Christ’s sake.” John scoffed. “Look, the guy was behind me and he wanted to keep him off our back. And to do that…” 

“You are impossible to follow right now.” 

“We made out! That’s all, it’s really not a big deal, for the case. Had to.” John admitted, making Greg roll his eyes.

“That’s what you wanted to tell me? I’m pretty sure everyone assumes you guys do that anyways.” 

“I’m not gay. That’s why! We aren’t doing that- Me and Sherlock aren’t dating!” 

“Okay! Okay, I believe you, Watson. But, just so you know, it would be okay if you were. You know that, right?” 

“Of course I know that!” The doctor shook his head, sighing. “I’m too old for a sexuality crisis.”

\-----

“Hello? Is this John Watson?” The voice spoke over the phone. John was sitting in the back of the cab when he answered.

“This is him. Who is this?” 

“You are Sherlock Holmes' emergency contact. There has been an accident, he is asking for you. I believe his words were ‘I swear to whatever holy, do not call Mycroft’. Are you available?” John sighed, running his hand through his hair.

“I’ll be there, thank you so much.” He hung up, leaning forward in his seat. “Can you take me to Saint Thomas? I’ll tip extra.”

He rushed into the hospital, walking up to the front desk. “I’m here to see Sherlock Holmes?” 

The lady nodded, looking at her computer. “Doctor Watson? He has been causing problems. Refusing anyone from helping him.” 

John took a deep breath, nodding. “I’m not surprised. What room?” 

“305. Good luck, sir.”

\-----

“Where is John? Don’t touch me!” Sherlock’s voice rang throughout the hallway. John pushed open the door, seeing all four of the staff in the room turning. “John! You’re here! Hi.” 

“Sherlock- what the hell happened? What are you doing?” John asked, pushing into the room and inspecting the cut above Sherlock’s eye. 

“Nothing. Just happened. I don’t want anyone else to give me stitches. I don’t trust them.” He lied but showed his true colors at the same time. 

“I’m sure this staff is just as qualified as me.” The doctor mumbled, before reaching for the needle. He set his knee on the bed, pressing it closer than he probably needed to against Sherlock’s knee. He held Sherlock’s face gently, getting to work. 

Sherlock closed his eyes, fully trusting John. “You are the only doctor I trust enough. Somebody loves me, remember?” He doesn’t trust easily, and just the idea of Sherlock fully trusting him made his heart swell. 

“You need to be more careful, Sherlock.” He mumbled as he worked, but didn’t get a response. Typical. 

Once he finished, he set down the needle and tapped his shoulder lightly. Sherlock opened his eyes, looking him in the eyes. “Thank you, John.” John nodded, pressing a kiss firmly to his forehead before standing back up. 

“He’s lucky to be with someone like you.” A doctor spoke behind him. John turned around, shaking his head. 

“It’s not like that- we are just flatmates.” John mumbled, before composing himself again. “Sorry for being a hassle, he’s…” He trailed off, but the doctor nodded.

“A hand full? We’ve seen him a lot. Used to be in more with rehab years ago.” John bit his lip. He didn’t know about the rehab. Sherlock hadn’t told him. The staff left, leaving them alone.

“Don’t ask me about rehab.” Sherlock said quietly, their eyes meeting. 

“I won’t, I just have one request.” John said, walking next to the hospital bed. “Can I lay down next to you? I’ve had a long day.” Sherlock hesitated. 

His arms opened, and John quickly accepted it. He climbed in next to him, wrapping his arms around Sherlock’s waist. He rested his head on Sherlock’s chest, ignoring the feelings brought up in him. 

\-----

“John? It’s Lestrade. You need to pick up Sherlock.” John groaned, closing his office door. He had just finished with his patient and was supposed to have another in a few. 

“What did he do now? I can’t leave right now. I’m at work.” 

“Please pick him up from the station. And bring cash with you.” 

“Bloody hell, for what?” This was not the right time, he had already used a lot of his free days with cases. 

“Impersonating a police officer.” John cursed, putting his head in his hand. 

“I’ll be there in a few, see you.”

\-----

“How much is it this time?” John asked, leaning against the counter.

“Two hundred quid. You know, the sex must be crazy.” The guy behind the desk said. The breath got caught in his throat, making him choke.

“You’ve got it all wrong, it’s not like that. We aren’t...” John insisted, handing over the bills. The man eyed him, but took the money anyway. He turned and saw Sherlock, grinning and walking over to him. “Brought your coat. Are you serious? A police officer?” 

“It was for a case, you can’t say anything. You would do almost anything for a case.” Sherlock waved his hand dismissively, but shrugged on his coat. 

John scoffed, handing Sherlock his scarf. “Not true. I wouldn’t do anything, I’m just committed to it.” Sherlock nodded, stopping for a second. He leaned against the brick wall of the station, checking his phone. “What are you doing? We need to get home.”

“Nothing. Checking my phone.” Sherlock responded, looking up at John. He was suddenly reminded of the incident at the banquet hall. John cleared his throat, looking up at the sky. A hand on his chest brought him back. “Dinner?”

\-----

“You seriously have to stop going to jail. What if I’m not there to bail you out?” John lectured, leaning forward against the table. 

“I was hoping you would always be there, so I don’t see the problem,” Sherlock said, only kind of kidding. “Really, I did not expect to get caught. I’ll pay you back.” 

“Money isn’t the issue, for someone who solves crimes for a living, I have to bail you out a lot! Seriously, Sherlock. I love you, okay? You need to take care of yourself.” John said softly, making Sherlock look at him. 

“I… okay. Okay. I’m sorry, John.” Sherlock apologized, looking back down. John reached across the table to touch his arm. 

“I’ll be there for you whenever you need me, okay? I don’t mind doing it. I mind bailing you out, but I’ll do it for you.” Sherlock nodded but noticed the waiter waiting next to them. John cleared his throat, leaning back into his chair. 

“Not the kind of love confession people usually get. What can I get you guys today?” The waiter joked, and John smiled slightly. He didn’t bother correcting him, he didn’t need to prove himself to anyone anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> quaratine be killing me


End file.
